Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (19 page)

“Did you know you were in danger?”

“No,” again she quietly stated.

Dr. Sumner wrote something down.

“Let’s continue.”

Aria followed her finger once again for a few minutes, in silence, to pick up the rhythm.

“You’re in the street, Aria,” Dr. Sumner reminded her. “When do you realize that you’re in danger?”

Aria didn’t speak for a few moments, continuing with her visual observance. Finally, something seemed to occur to her.

“I can hear Declan’s voice. It has a different sound. I’ve never heard it quite like that before. It’s almost urgent—or a forceful kind of fear—if that makes any sense. I can hear a warning in his voice.”

Dr. Sumner could see Aria’s progression.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I realize I’m in the street and I step backward.” Aria backed into the chair a bit. “I step up onto the curb because he wants me to get out of the street…and I see her…and him.”

“Stop.” Dr. Sumner directed.

“Oh my God!”

Dr. Sumner watched as the color drained from Aria’s face.

“What do you see, Aria? It can’t hurt you,” she encouraged Aria to respond.

Aria was trapped in the thought. Struggling for breath, her composure began to erode. Both feet came out from under as she gripped the cushion of the chair. Dampness began to form on her forehead and upper lip. Anguish and terror begin to replace the relaxed composure that held her just moments before.

Immediately, Dr. Sumner placed her pen and papers to the side, reaching a hand out to her patient, attempting consolation.

“Aria, look at me,” she directed.

No response. She tried again.

“Aria…Look. At. Me!”

Aria’s attention immediately snapped to the doctor.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and began to fall as her lips trembled.

“I saw it,” she whispers to the doctor in a hushed tone.

“Saw what, Aria?” Dr. Sumner asked gently. “You can tell me,” she said as she held her hand. “It can’t hurt you now.”

Aria let the tears fall, but wouldn’t lay voice to the vision.

Dr. Sumner’s objectivity momentarily turned to sympathy. “You’ve already seen it. It can’t hurt you. The only thing that can hurt you is what you’re doing now. Do you understand? It’s not talking about it what’s been hurting you?”

Aria continued to hold tight to the doctor’s hand.

Dr. Sumner issued one more plea.

“Tell me what you saw so that I can help…”

Holding the doctor’s hand was like a lifeline for her. The words came out slowly, softly and very quietly. Aria was fearful that giving volume to them might shatter her completely.

“I saw her…” she began. “I saw him trying to help me…trying to get to me…and I saw the impact…saw it hit him…” She began to cry as she struggled with the words. “I heard it…oh my God, I heard it…heard his leg as it snapped…”

Tears dripped off her chin as she gulped sobs at the memory of Declan’s anguish.

The doctor patted her hand.

“What you saw was terrible,” Dr. Sumner assured her. “Seeing someone you love become crushed underneath tons of metal and the physical toll it took—it was horrible to witness that happening to someone you love. You wouldn’t be human if that didn’t move you.”

Aria shook her head. “
No
—
no
…you don’t understand…” she said, her sobs becoming stronger.

Dr. Sumner held her hand as Aria became distraught.

“What is it sweetie?” Dr. Sumner asked, sensing there was more.

Aria tucked her head into her shoulder as she cried out, “You don’t understand!”

Dr. Sumner was perplexed.

“What, Aria? What don’t I understand? What has you so upset?”

“
Her!
” She said, glaring at the doctor. “It was her, don’t you see?” she pleaded.

Not receiving the response she wanted, Aria grabbed for both of the doctor’s hands in desperation.

“She did it!”

“
Marchelle!
Dónde estan mis trajes de baño?!
Where did you put them? Where are my bathing suits?!”

She proceeded to tear apart the closet. No matter, she’d have Marchelle put everything away once she had her pack the suitcases for the trip.

Marchelle came running from the other room and retrieved one of the suitcases she had placed against the wall.

“
Todo está en la bolsa,
” she said, holding out the suitcase to her sister.

“I didn’t tell you to pack everything in here yet, and use your English! I may have you pretend to be me at some point so that I can arrange to be elsewhere!”

“
Si, Marisol
…umm, okay.”

As Marisol rummaged through everything in the suitcase, which Marchelle had so neatly and painstakingly organized and packed for her, Marchelle knelt down to assist her.

“May I help you?” she asked, asking in perfect English and offering up her hands.

“No! You can’t help me!”

Marisol slapped her hands out of the way.

“You could have helped if you would have checked to see if these were the final selections of what I chose to take on the trip with me—”

Her rant was interrupted by the ringing of the cell phone, which she couldn’t find because she had tossed everything around.

Frustrated, she yelled an order at her sister, “Find that for me!”

Marchelle immediately scampered and started looking around the bedroom for the missing phone.

“I SAID NOW!” Marisol screamed at her, despite her sister’s instant response, and the poor woman ran into the hallway.

Victoriously retrieving the cell from her sister’s handbag, Marchelle held it out to Marisol cheerfully.

Hearing Marisol’s tone quickly change as she answered, Marchelle exited the room to make herself busy elsewhere. Within minutes, she could hear her sister raise her voice in anger, cussing at someone called
Blake
. Then the unmistakable sound of the telephone being thrown against the wall was heard. Marchelle wouldn’t inquire, however.

She knew better.

Since she had been Marisol’s companion, Marchelle learned that she was only to be privy to what Marisol deemed important.

“That was Blake’s assistant at Bella Matrix,” Marisol informed her as she exited her bedroom. “It seems that I—that we—are
not
going to Hawaii. I have not been requested for this assignment.
That
is very odd to me, since I know the client
extremely
well, and have very good relations with several of his employees.”

Marchelle said nothing, but noted that Marisol was extremely unhappy about this turn of events—
extremely
unhappy
.

She came to sit near Marchelle, speaking without expecting—or wanting—a reply.

“So they’ve thought of everything, have they? They’ve selected other models, chosen the hotels—they are even taking some of the new people! I am not happy about this!
Not happy at all, Marchelle!
”

She gave her sister a sinister scowl.

“I was planning to spend some time with Declan. In fact, I had an entire plan for the trip that would have made him come around to everything I wanted him to do! All that time! All my plans! Now it is all ruined!”

She ran her hands through her long hair as she tapped her finger on her temple in contemplation. She stood and began to pace, tapping and pacing in sync. Then, as if a thought occurred to her, she quickly perked up. It seemed a plan had begun to unfold.

Once again, she spoke to her sister, expecting a mute audience.

“
They
cannot ruin
my
plans! I may not be
on
the assignment, but they
cannot keep me out of Hawaii!”

Smiling, she hugged herself with self-satisfaction.

“
I will surprise him!
Yes! He will love that! It will be perfect!! I will let them all go there to work, and I will go to play! It’s the best scenario—and I get exactly what I want!
Doesn’t that sound wonderful?!”

She spun herself around, laughing.

“I thought that we would have a nice vacation. I was going to let you play at being me once again.”

Turning her attention to Marchelle, she gave her a slight smile.

“You like that, don’t you? When I let you ‘be’ me?”

Marchelle knew better than to answer the question. No matter what reaction she would display, positive or negative, it would always be the wrong one. She had played this game before. Her eyes dropped to her hands, and Marisol noticed.

“Stop it, Marchelle!
I wasn’t asking you as if I were Papi!”

Seeing the fear surface in the eyes of her sister, she approached to regain her attention.

Coming to her side, she gathered both of her sister’s hands into her own. Opening them, Marisol opened hers as well to reveal the matching scars they both carried on their fingertips from their father’s extreme discipline.

“See?” she cooed. “We have matching fingers. It never affected how pretty I became…” she looked into Marchelle’s downcast eyes “…and it didn’t affect you either.”

Marchelle looked at the marks. Heavy memories beating in time with her heart, she lifted her sister’s hands to her lips, kissing the palms of each one, and then held them to her cheeks in an expression of love and gratitude.

Marisol accepted her love and loyalty in the manner of a queen—she deserved it—and softened her voice. She’d tired of this line of unpleasant thoughts regarding their dead father and wished to end the display.

“
Traigame un poco de té.
Go on. Get me some tea.”

Marchelle went to perform the simple task. Nothing that Marisol would ever ask of her would be too trivial or inconvenient. These things that she did for her twin always seemed so insignificant in comparison to the wonderful life she provided for her.

Papi had a very bad temper when they were growing up, much worse than Marisol. They used to play that they were going to grow up and be like him—boss everyone around the same way that he did.

One day, they took his pencil and pretended to be him, writing scribbles on the paper. After that, Papi had put their hands to the hot stove in punishment for them thinking they could be like him and for touching his things without permission. It was the last time he ever delivered his harsh form of discipline to them—and Marisol was responsible for making all the terrors from Papi come to an end…

…Marisol made Papi go away…

“Hey!”

Making their way toward him in the restaurant, Carter relaxed at the table. He had only thought Aimee was coming to meet with him, but Katherine and Paige passed through the doorway with her. Relief was lending itself to his comfort. As their time to meet grew closer, he had been a bit edgy about meeting with Aimee alone, but that all just faded away with the girls’ arrival.

He rose, like the gentleman he was taught to be, as the women approached. Each graced him with a kiss on the cheek, along with their respective
hellos
, and that made him smile all the more.

Lying her bag down on the floor, Aimee issued an apology.

“I hope you don’t mind more company. Katherine was available and Paige said she’d love to help with the Benefit. Is that okay?”

He stretched out his long, jean covered legs, and all three women took notice. Carter was hot; he was even hotter sporting a day’s worth of rough stubble along the lower part of his face.

“Of course it’s okay,” he assured her. He then gave all the girls a smile. “I’m the only guy in this restaurant with three gorgeous girls at his table. Every guy here is going to want to be me!”

As the three got settled at the table, and put jackets on the backs of their chairs, he could tell he got favorable responses from all of them with that remark. Maybe he still could do the dating thing. Lacey always said he was a flirt.

Paige ran her hands through her long hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. She was blushing a soft shade of pink. She looked down, a bit shy, but then got down to the business at hand.